Your Smile
by m.t.dog
Summary: Set during season two, after Chase's Mistake. Chase is pissed about House not tell him about his dad, and he confronts him. Slash...kind of. Don't read if you don't like.


Disclaimer: Nope, House belongs to David Shore, so please don't sue.

Authors Note: My second House ficlet…I think it'll go a little better, but I can't wait to see how everyone likes it! So, please review! Oh, and this takes place during the episode "Chase's Mistake", in season two. The trial is already over, and Chase is pissed with House for not telling him that his father had been sick.

House didn't even flinch as the door to his office opened with a bang, and an angry Doctor Chase stormed in, blue eyes blazing and mouth set in a grim line.

"You bastard. Why the hell didn't you tell me that my father was sick? Because of that surprise call from my step-mom, an innocent woman died, and you're just as guilty as me for her death. Why wouldn't you tell me something so important?" Chase shouted at House, standing before his desk with his hands on his slim hips, and eyes narrowed into a glare.

House didn't say anything, just stared at his tennis ball, seemingly ignoring his Australian apprentice. Eventually he looked up and said, with a mocking, hurtful tone of voice, "Chase, don't try and pretend that you're angry because the patient died. You're angry because your father told me, a perfect stranger, that he was dieing, and not you, his only son."

Chase's eyes widened at the assumption, his body reeling back as if struck by a blow. He looked out at House astonished, amazed that he could even think such a horrible thing, and yet…if he was honest, truly honest with himself, Chase knew that it was true, and he hated himself for that. As he continued to gaze at the cripple, he felt his self hatred return to the righteous anger he had felt when entering House's office, and he stalked forward until he was right in front of House's desk, then leaned down until his eyes were level with those of the diagnostic's.

"No matter what I feel, and why, it still doesn't change the fact that you didn't tell me what you knew. So, tell me why. Why would you do something so cruel and deceitful…do you really hate me that much?" Chase asked desperately, his anger leaking away as he remembered his horror from finding out such shocking news so suddenly, and over a telephone. It hurt….deeply and truly, even though his father had never showed any real love or compassion, he was still Chase's father, and he refused to believe that even someone as nasty as House could withhold such significant information.

"Oh, stop your whining. You're acting as if I stabbed you or something," House ridiculed, frosty eyes never leaving the Australian's.

"You might as well have! That phone call made me _kill_ a patient, which was something that you could have stopped. Now, stop trying to change the subject, and answer the damn question!" Chase said, his voice almost a shout by the end.

"Fine! You want to know the truth? Why I didn't tell the poor, little doctor that his big, strong daddy was dieing? I did it… because I love to see his smile. I love knowing that no matter how harsh a case gets, one of my ducklings will be able to laugh at my jokes, be able to exchange insults without getting nasty…and I knew, that if that young, sensitive doctor ever found out about his daddy, he would be crushed, so I decided to hold onto that smile just a little longer," House half-mocked, half-shouted, standing up and leaning over the desk until his and Chase's noses were practically touching. He finished by whispering into the blonde's ear, "I did it because I love your smile."

Chase stood trembling, both his mind and his body quaking with barely suppressed emotions. Anger, understanding, despair, caring, and…just a little bit of love filled the lithe body, and Chase felt as though he might explode from the feelings coursing through him, from the feeling of House's hot breath on his neck, and the scent of his cologne filling his nose, and surrounding his entire being.

The two stood there for a little while longer, neither truly wanting to go, to return to the world where there was no one to share body heat with, no one to talk to, no one to run to when you're hurt, but House, who, by then, had sacrificed much more then some pleasant, warm feelings to keep himself protected from hurt and being broken, managed to pull away. He formed his lips into a smirk that didn't reach his eyes, and said to the young, innocent blonde standing in front of him, "but, don't look to much into that. It's nothing personal…just something every boss says to their apprentices to stop them from exploding in our faces."

Chase's whole body seemed to fall after hearing this, his body staggering under the weight of the cold world that he hadn't even known was there a few moments beforehand. He should have known that House was messing with him, but something in him had wanted to believe that House cared, that he thought about Chase outside of work. He was crushed for reasons he couldn't explain, not even to himself, but, one good thing that he had learned from his father, was that appearances were everything, and, that no matter how shattered and cold you felt, you had to put on your smile, and make everyone believe that you were fine. So, he rearranged his frown into a smile, squared his shoulders, and said, with little emotion his voice, "that's fine, I didn't think that you were serious anyways. Thanks anyway though. Bye." And with that, he walked out of the room, his heart bleeding from an unknown wound, and he faintly found himself wondering if this was the pain that drove his mother into drinking her way to death…this hollow, dull ache that filled his entire chest. It was an unknown feeling, appearing suddenly and without warning, yet it hurt as if he had been stabbed repeatedly, and he thought dizzily if it would ever go away.

House, back in his office, sat back down in his chair, his legs propped up against the side of the desk and his head against the back of the seat. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling as if it held the secrets of the universe, yet it was obvious to anyone who knew his that he was in unbearable pain, the kind that he felt when he saw Stacey with her husband, but somehow so much worse because he knew that what he wanted was in his grasp, but still unreachable, still just outside his reach. He closed his eyes, and thought to himself mockingly, patronizingly,"_oh yeah, it wasn't personal at all."_

A/N: Well, there it is, my second House! I hope that everyone likes it! Please, please review, it's what keeps the ideas flowing.


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